Mess of Details
by losingstreak
Summary: So we trade liquor for blood in an attempt to tip the scales. I think you lost what you loved in that mess of details. They seemed so important at the time but now you can't even recall any of the names, faces, or lines. It's more the feeling of all.


_The description of this story comes from Bright eyes. Conor Oberst is beautiful and genius.**  
**_  
Comatose for months in a monotonous routine that I'd grown so weary of, these apartment walls would no longer be my recluse prison. A semester abroad shifted to a full year overseas. I missed Charlie, though we spoke weekly and I never failed to sound enthusiastic about my studies, laughing-- all the while weeping silently. Of course my mother heard the transparency in my voice most often, which led to us speaking infrequently. I remember coming to London, anxious to study and thirsty for adventure. _Finally independence. _

And it was just that, for a while-- until everyday felt like groundhog's day. I set out to conquer and paint the town black. I was not remotely interested in settling into a relationship or breaking hearts or falling in love. I was not in love, not one second convinced that I was. But here I had two men, pulling at me, hoping that when I'd break—he would be the one with the larger half. Thomas lost; I had broken it off with him three months ago in a feeble attempt to focus more on myself and my studies. He was a pleasant distraction but his motives, his emotions were far too intense and more serious than mine. I had to let him down easy so I pulled "I think we're better as just friends" card on him which he ate up and spit out bitterly. Jacob was more than thrilled of this news, convinced he was another inch closer to winning my heart.

Thomas. I remember that wretched afternoon we crossed paths. Thick droplets of rain pounded down, almost to be confused with partial hail. The sky was grey and inadvertently so was my mood. I had just flunked an exam, argued with Charlie for over an hour over meaningless things, and was soon to miss my bus ride to Westminster. There, I planned drinking in Soho until I felt numb and surely not waste any more thought to insignificant worries. In the distance I saw the bus stopped and a young man ready to step on board. I hurried at a rapid pace, soon jogging over. Soon running. He glanced at me—while I was gaining stride and soon closing the distance between us—and was arguing with the bus driver from the sidewalk, one foot on the first step and hand latched tightly to the side door. He seemed upset and I heard him murmur "plonker" to the driver, and then stepping on board. I reached my destination, breathless and gasping for air with my heart practically pounding out of my chest. "Thank… you…" I heaved, "for waiting" I caught a full breath of air and managed to feel relaxed. "Don't thank me, thank this _prat_ who held me up". "The _prat_" the young man mocked, "was more than happy to ensure this young lady got on board." I giggled, "Well thank you, prat" I grinned to the tall young man with golden locks and bright blue eyes. "Thomas" he extended his hand, "Bella" I said, shaking his. It was a firm handshake; I like that in a man. "Well, Thomas and Bella, please take your seats so we can all get moving!" the bus driver scolded, annoyed.

The phone rang, interrupting my trance of a vivid memory. "Hello" I answered sheepishly.

"Hey, it's me" a familiar voice breathed, "I can't talk long, I bought a twenty minute calling card". Jacob Black.

"I think that's more that enough time, did Charlie tell you I'm coming home?" I inquired.

Of course Charlie mentioned it to Jacob, why wouldn't he considering Jacob was constantly calling Charlie for updates on me? We seldom talked. It didn't help that he declared his love—or what I thought to be infatuation—with me every time we spoke. Nonetheless, I knew he loved me but to say he was in love, well I couldn't fairly judge. I never regretted those seven months we dated before I departed my wet, comfy home in Forks, WA to venture out. London seemed fitting, though it drained my entire savings, and racked up a decent dollar sign in student loans.

"Yeah, that's why I'm calling. And also because you never call me or tell me anything these days, Bella" he snapped.

"Jacob, I'm sorry. Things have just been insane between finals and…" my voice trailed off, "I'll be home in a few days. How are you?" I soothed.

He always managed to guilt-trip me.

"Doing okay," he replied, "Cullen's back. He's been back a few months now. I figured I'd give you a fair warning so you don't collapse from a heart attack when you see him. He's been asking Charlie about you."

Suddenly my palms felt clammy and I could feel the blood draining from my face, "Wh-Wh-What? When? Charlie never said a word of Edward back, and why wouldn't you have mentioned it to me sooner?" I demanded to know.

"Relax, I know what that freak means to you but he's a sorry excuse for a friend if he just drops you the way he did" Jacob retorted.

His words sent an electric shock through me and I could feel the thick, salty tears forming and soon stinging my eyes. "Don't say that" I almost whispered, struggling to find strength and voice.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you, I just wanted to tell you so it's not a bombshell when you return home to find him here" Jacob spoke softly now.

"I appreciate it, Jake" I thanked him.

_Edward Cullen_. My best friend and confident since the seventh grade starting the moment a snobbish boy taunted me because of my braces.

"Brace face, brace face" the boy sneered.

My eyes welted with tears, but I bravely showed little sign of hurt.

"They'll be off in a month, what then will you say to my white and perfectly straight teeth?" I shot back.

The boy huffed and laughed and turned around, and without any warning, Edward's fist pounded his cheek and sent the boy crashing to the ground. My eyes gaped down at the boy struggling to regain full consciousness and balance. Edward was just as shocked by his actions as I was, he stood there wide-eyed fixated on the boy until his eyes lifted to reach my gaze. The boy looked angry and smug but showed small sign of injury, merely a few crimson droplets of pain and a hurt ego.

_Edward was home_. I marveled at the thought, he had a lot of explaining to do.

_**  
This is what I get after a stressful week and feeling a little sappy. Would anyone like to see a chapter two posted?**_


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